Chained
by Potion
Summary: Kate's been Ari's captive for the past few years. Fornell finds her and takes her back to NCIS. But can she really handle all she's been through? Two-shot. PostTwilight, slightly AU. Complete.
1. going under

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own anything NCIS...  
A/N: This is probably only going to be a twoshot. Second chapter should be up soon, but until then, enjoy. My first try at something like this (and first person in general), so... Constructive criticism and reviews in general are absolute love!

**Chained.**

**Chapter 1: Going Under**

_"How long have I been in this storm?  
So overwhelmed by the ocean's shapeless form  
Water's getting harder to tread  
With these waves crashing over my head"_  
- "Storm", Lifehouse

I sit here and I watch these shadows on the walls. Sometimes I talk to them. Sometimes I pretend they talk back, and we have conversations, just me and the shadows. I know that they really don't talk back, that they can't, because they're just shadows. I know that my voice is the only sound that fills this room, that my words are the only ones that echo back at me. I know.

I just need something to know that I'm still alive. Some people would hurt themselves, go get high, whatever they can do. Sitting here, chained to this wall, there's not too many ways that I can do that. No way but to talk. To talk until my voice starts to get hoarse and cracks every time I say a word. To talk about anything that pops into my mind, anything about my past and my memories and the people I used to know, because I know that I have to. I have to, or the thoughts won't leave me alone.

Sometimes I talk to them about being here. How long it's been (I have no idea, and neither do they). How long I'm going to stay here (until I die? they think so, too). How hungry I am. How weak I've gotten. How surprised I am at myself.

I've never been strong. Not as strong as I've tried to show everyone, at least. So I'm surprised. I'm surprised that I've been able to pretend this long, been able to keep my mind focused and from turning on me. I'm surprised that hallucinations haven't overtaken me, that my past hasn't tried to become my present, that I'm not screaming and crying and trying to kill myself. I'm surprised that I only shake when I'm cold, I'm surprised that I only sweat when I'm hot. I'm surprised that the dark doesn't bother me. I'm surprised that, yeah, I've gotten used to it. I'm not completely crazy yet. Yet. Because there's not much more that I can fake, and I know it. I know it and the shadows know it.

I miss the world. I miss light and I miss color and I miss the smell of fresh air and grass. I miss being able to walk and run and drive and just move. I miss being able to hear somebody talk to me, somebody I want to talk to. Somebody real. I miss the sky and I miss the clouds and I miss the sun and I miss the rain. I miss it. I want it back, more than anything I just want it all back.

But I can't have it back.

I make myself stand. It's hard. I have to hold onto the wall and push myself up with everything I've got, but I stand. I hear the footsteps coming from... Wherever. I really don't know. I used to know, I think, but I've forgotten. When I first got here, I think I figured out quite quickly where he came from, how he got in and out. But as time drug on, I forgot. It doesn't matter, really, because I'm not getting out of here any time soon. But I've pushed myself up, and I'm standing, my hand still holding onto the wall, making the chains that keep me in my place rattle. It's the only way I can stay up. My knees are bent, ready to give way. It takes everything I've got to keep standing, and to keep my head up as high as it is. I still don't want him to see me broken. I can pretend for a little while every now and then that I'm still strong, and I can pretend for a little while that he believes it.

He comes in. I try to see how, but I can't. I can't give up too much concentration to seeing him come and go, not if I want to stay up. He puts my food down in the corner, like he always does. Then he looks at me and he smiles. He smiles and then he chuckles. He laughs at me, standing here. "It's sad, really," he says, his voice so low that I can barely hear him. My ears actually hurt at the sound of his voice. He shakes his head, pushing my arm down and watching me fall onto the ground. A sound escapes me as the pain shoots through me; I should have kept quiet, because now he knows that I'm hurt. He's done worse. He knows it and I know it, but this still hurts and he still gets satisfaction from it.

That's all he wanted. He turns and exits. I'm still waiting for the day that he'll stop before he leaves and he'll look back at me, and he'll say, "Goodbye, Caitlin," and then he'll leave, and never come back. I'm still waiting for that day that he decides to leave me for dead. But today, I guess today's not that day. Maybe it's just not that day the way I imagined, maybe it really is that day. I don't know. But he leaves, either way. He leaves the same way he came, I guess, but I still don't pay attention because now I'm scrambling for the food. It's just a few pieces of bread and a couple glasses of water but I'm dying for it anyway.

He's right. It's sad. _I'm _sad. Pathetic. I know it and he knows it and the shadows know it. I'm broken. He broke me. I've been broken for a long time now and I've been pretending that I'm not, that he hasn't broken me, that I'm strong and that I'm not crazy. I am crazy, I think. Maybe not. But I'm getting there. My mind is unraveling as the days go on and I've been ignoring it. I've been pretending that I'm strong, that I'm okay, even though I'm not. I've been ignoring the facts because I don't want to lose. I don't want this to be the end. I can't do a damn thing about it and that scares me, it scares me so much. My life is in his hands now and I'm like his slinky. He holds me in one hand then drops me, watching the way I fall until he picks me up with his other hand. All for his enjoyment.

But soon, he's going to drop me for good. The kids always drop their slinky eventually, right? What's different? Soon they get bored, or it's dinnertime, or the slinky breaks and it's just not fun anymore. I don't want to be a slinky. I don't want to be a slinky but I don't want to die, either. I'm not doing much living right now but I still don't want to die. I don't know why, because sometimes I just want nothing other than to die.

Death isn't something new. I am dead. To everyone else, I'm dead. I have been dead for God knows how long. I've been shot in the head, killed by my captor, and I'm six feet under the ground in some cemetery. Am I supposed to be in D.C., or Indiana, or where? Where would they want to bury me? I look at my hands, my dirty, weak hands. Who did they bury, how did they not know I wasn't in that casket? Tony, Gibbs, Abby, McGee, Ducky. Did they not do an autopsy?

I'm not dead. I want to tell them that. I want them to know, somehow, that I'm not really dead. It's all just a big misunderstanding, sort of. It's not what they think because I'm not dead. I'm right here, breathing just like the rest of them, blinking just like they do. I'm right here, blood pumping through my veins as my heart beats. I'm right here. I don't know where here is, but I'm here, and they're there and I'm still alive and they're still alive. No. I'm sitting here dying and they're sitting there living. At least I think they're alive; I hope they're alive. I can't be alive and them be dead, not now, not after all of this.

"I don't want to keep thinking." The shadows don't say anything back to me. "I just want answers, I just want to get out of here." They still don't speak. Are they ignoring me? "Are they okay? They have to be okay. They don't know what's going on, they've got to be over me by now. They have to be okay." They don't confirm this. They don't make me feel better. "I remember. I remember how Tony used to throw things at me, how much he used to annoy me." I hold onto the wall beside me, and the shadows seem to move away from me. "I remember the way Abby used to hug me, the smile she'd get on her face when I walked through the door." They've heard all this before; they have nothing to say to it anymore. "I remember the way McGee just tried to fit in, even with us constantly teasing him." They can't make me feel worse about it than I already do, and they don't bother trying. "I remember Ducky, always telling stories. I don't... I don't remember listening to a single one of them." They know how much I want to hear one now. "I remember Gibbs, always right, always knowing what to do next. Always saving somebody. Everybody." _Just not you._ I blink. They're right. "I remember watching Gerald get shot." _Because of you. _"I remember nearly stabbing Ari." The shadows fall silent once again.

"Gibbs was right. Eyes lie. His eyes don't hold the kindness anymore." _Because they never did. _"They did. I swear they did." Even as the words come out of my mouth I realize I can barely remember the day in my head. It's been too long, the darkness has been too much. But they did, didn't they? I had said it myself. I hadn't stabbed him because of it. "Right?" Maybe not. Maybe I was just afraid. No. I hadn't been afraid. I had felt bad for him, hadn't I? Hadn't I? "How did I let this happen? I had it all. I had everything I ever needed... wanted. Now, nothing."

I lean my head against the brick wall and I close my eyes. The shadows won't talk back. I hate this silence, I hate how it's filled with nothing but my own voice. Unless he speaks, and I hate that even more. I hate him, I hate everything about him. I hate having to be here, and it's all because of him.

My hands clench into fists on the ground. I know that I just lied to myself. It's not because of him, no. It's because of me. I could have said no. I could have chosen not to come here, and I know it. It was my choice and I chose this. I swallow. "It was this or them," I whisper. _We know._ I've never said it before. How would they know? How would the shadows know, if I never told them? I hate this. They know everything. Nothing is just mine anymore. It's mine and it's theirs and it's his. _You saved them. _I know that. They don't have to tell me that. I know that I saved them and I don't regret coming here, not if it saved them.

But what if, what if it didn't save them? What if he lied to me, and he did it anyway? Maybe he did. Maybe he broke our deal, just like he broke me. No. No, he didn't. He wouldn't. He doesn't have any kindness in his eyes but he's still not a monster. He still wouldn't do that, I know it. I hope.

~~~~.~~~~

It takes me a moment to realize that I've actually opened my eyes, that I'm not asleep anymore. Sometimes I'm not sure if I actually fall asleep or not. Not much goes on here; there's no way to tell how long I've been sleeping, when I feel asleep, anything. The only way I can keep track of time is by my conversations with the shadows.

And I remember every one of them.

Every word I've ever said to the walls, I remember. I've said a lot, I think, but I'm not sure when I started. It feels like a long time ago, but at the same time, it feels like yesterday. But when _was _yesterday? It easily could have been yesterday, for all I know. It could have been three years ago. I don't know. I don't even know how old I am anymore. How old was I when I came here? (The shadows tell me they know. They know, but they won't tell me.) How old will I be when I leave here (if I leave here)? I wish I knew.

I take another bite out of the bread Ari brought yesterday. Ari. He's ruined my life, but he keeps me alive. What's the point? What does he think he's achieving, doing this to me? Is there some perverse pleasure he gets from torturing me? I figure so. Otherwise, wouldn't he have just killed me already? _Unless he has a reason._

I really must be going crazy. Either the shadows now know my every thought, or I'm saying words aloud and not realizing it. I'm not sure which one I'd rather it be.

"What.. What reason would he have?" I make sure that I speak out loud. I'm not going to push myself over the edge. I'm going to try to stay sane just as long as I can. I can feel it, the sanity, ebbing away at the edges of my brain, threatening to disappear completely. I'm not sure when. I don't know if it's just now starting to leave me or if it's been fading away for a while now, and I can't say that I know which would be better. Maybe, once I go crazy, I won't know what I'm thinking or feeling. Maybe it'd be easier than being sane.

Then again, maybe it'd be harder. Maybe I'd know what I was doing without being able to control it, and I'm not sure if I'd be able to handle that. Being a bigger mess than I am now? It's hard for me to imagine, and I know for a fact that I don't want to.

It takes me a moment to realize the shadows don't say anything back. I know why. I always know why. There's only a handful of reasons the shadows don't reply. They never reply if the answer hurts. They never reply if they don't know, and they never reply if they know that I couldn't handle it.

I'm thinking it's the former or the latter.

~~~~.~~~~

When it's all over, when you're on your deathbed, what are you supposed to think about?

I'm laying here. It's been too long since I last ate, since I last had a drop of water. I can't move. If I had food, if I had water, I doubt I would be able to get to it. I'm laying here, still with nothing but my thoughts. I don't even want to open my eyes and look at the shadows. They won't tell me anything I want to hear. They're too honest, way too honest for that.

So I'm here and I'm thinking. I'm thinking about how hungry I am, how much I wouldn't mind some real food, something more than just bread. A salad, a steak, it doesn't matter. Something substantial, anything at all. I'm thinking about how much I wouldn't mind something other than water, either. A soda, some Kool-Aid, anything. I'm thinking about the shadows, how much I wished they could really speak, how much I want them to call Ari in here to give me something. Because this is hell on Earth, but I still don't want to die. Not yet.

I'm thinking about how I'd always wondered how long I'd be stuck here, and now I just might find out.

And now, now that I've realized it, I'm thinking about those things I'd forgotten to think about. Those things usually in the front of my brain, usually right there, that I completely forgot about. My memories. Tony and Gibbs and McGee and Abby and Ducky. I haven't thought about them yet, about how they're doing, about what all I'd been through with them. And now that I've remembered them I feel nothing but guilt. Because that's what you're supposed to think about on your deathbed, isn't it? Your friends, your family. Your whole life is supposed to flash before your eyes, right? I haven't had that. I can't make the images flash in my brain. I can't make them, and I feel nothing but guilt for that.

_You've been on your deathbed for years._

I swallow, but nothing goes down. I have no saliva _to_ go down now. My mouth is dry, and the shadows are right. They're always right. They've never been wrong, never failed me yet. I've been on my deathbed for as long as I've been here, and they've flashed before me all that time. I've thought of little but them. Why should I feel guilty, when I've thought of them forever?

It helps, a little bit, what the shadows said. But I still can't shake that small feeling of guilt that's still eating at me.

~~~~.~~~~

My eyes open slowly, just to be burned by a small light shining directly at me. I gasp, closing my eyes and covering them with my hands, my chains rattling as I move. It hurts to move my arms. They ache even without moving, and I nearly cry out from the pain. But I can't make myself make any other noise.

"Holy shit."

It's a slightly familiar voice. I've heard it before, I'm sure. I think. Maybe it's a voice I've given to the shadows, a voice that has only ever resonated in my head.

The light shuts off, and I'm glad. No. Glad isn't the right word. Glad is when you're happy, smiling. I'm relieved. I slowly, carefully move my arms from my eyes, but I don't open them. Not yet. Someone is bending down beside me, but they won't speak. I feel someone cutting at the chains attached to the walls. I hear somebody, seemingly far away, call for an ambulance. I open my eyes, but everything's spinning, so I close them again. Who are these people? What do they want from me? Maybe... Maybe they're hear to help.

_Who's ever really trying to help, Caitlin?_

I wince as the shadows speak to me. They're always right, after all.

I try to speak. I open my mouth, but I can't get anything to come out. Nothing. My heart is pounding, and I just want them to leave, to leave me alone, to let me die here in peace. I don't want them to be here, to nurse me back to health. One of them is Ari, I guarantee it. He's moving me, he's going to make me get better so that he can do it all over again. I know it. I just.. I just know it.

"Kate Todd?" It's a man's voice, but it's not Ari. It's not the man calling for an ambulance. It's somebody else, and I know that I've heard the voice before. It's the same voice that cursed when the light shined at me. It's the same person who's kneeling beside me. I want to tell him to get up, because he doesn't know what he's getting himself into, he doesn't know what he's standing on, who he's talking to, but he knows my name. My _name._ It feels weird to hear it again, after all this time. Ari never used it. I never use it. The shadows, they've only used it once, and it wasn't until they showed up. I think that I'd almost forgotten it.

Suddenly, somebody's picking me up, and I'm leaning against them as they're carrying me. I don't know where I'm going, and I really don't care right now.

"You're supposed to be dead." It's whispered, almost muttered, said in passing and almost like I'm not supposed to hear it. But I do.

"I'm... supposed to be a lot of things," I manage to croak out, and I can feel his eyes on me. We're still in the room, I think. It still smells like it, unless it's just me.

No, it's not just me. I can't smell it anymore. We're outside, I think. I can feel the light shining down. I can hear the shadows, back in that room, still calling out to me -- telling me these different things, what's supposed to be and what's not supposed to be and all these last-minute pieces of advice -- but they get quieter and quieter the closer to the light that I get, until finally, I can't hear them at all.


	2. slow decay

Disclaimer: Still don't own anything, sorry..  
A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Here's chapter two, and with this, the story's over. ): Hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please tell me what you think -- reviews are really what motivates most writers, so if you like a story -- my stories, or stories by any other author on FF -- please take 10 seconds out of your time to review. It really makes an author's day. (: Anyway, without any further stalling....

**Chained.**

**Chapter 2: Slow Decay  
**

_"I never thought I'd feel this  
Guilty and I'm broken down inside  
Living with myself  
Nothing but lies"  
_- "World So Cold", Three Days Grace

I wake up to pure white walls and a beeping machine next to me. Everything's so bright. I don't think I've ever thought of a hospital as 'bright' before, just dull and boring and impersonal. But I get a headache the minute I open my eyes, and it doesn't subside even after I've closed them. I saw him, though, in the few fleeting moments my eyes were open. He's in the chair in the corner, staring at me. So familiar, yet so much a stranger. I feel like I should know who he is, but I don't. I can't remember.

"You're awake," he says, and I know from the voice he's the one that carried me. I know him. I just don't know how, or why. I don't say anything back, and eventually he continues. "We all thought you were dead." No duh. You were supposed to, that was the whole point. But instead of saying anything, I groan. "Kate? Can you talk?"

It feels so weird to hear my name, to hear somebody else say it, somebody besides my own mind. It's been so long since anybody's used it, since I've heard it, since I've heard the way it sounds out loud on somebody else's tongue. "Yeah," I say, and I'm actually surprised how easy it is for me to talk. It's as if my throat was never as dry as it had been. He doesn't say anything, and I know he's trying to think of the words to say. I actually feel sorry for him, a little bit. Discovering somebody who's supposed to be dead is actually, well, alive has got to be somewhat shaking. "Can you, uh, shut the blinds and turn off the light?" I feel weird asking him. Like I'm a freak or something. I don't know why; I shouldn't. I just spent goodness knows how long trapped in a dark room. I can see the light go down behind my eyelids and so I open my eyes. It still hurts a little bit, but I can deal with the light headache thumping against my temples.

He looks at me. He looks tired, like he hasn't gotten enough sleep. He probably hasn't. He's probably been waiting for me to wake up. "Do you need anything?" he asks, and I shake my head. Then I regret it.

"Well, actually.." I look up at him hopefully, and he nods for me to continue. "Can you answer a few questions for me?" He nods again. I close my eyes for a second. "Who are you?"

He just looks at me again. See? I should know this. I shouldn't have to ask. "Fornell." The name is all too familiar, and I try it out in a whisper on my own tongue a few times. Then it hits me.

"FBI." He nods, looking slightly relieved now that I remember him. "How long has it been, since you found me?"

"About four days."

I swallow. "And since I... since I, you know? Since I.. Died. Went missing."

"About four years."

Four years. Four whole years. Four years I've been trapped in that room, because of Ari, dead to everyone on the outside world. Four years of nothing but darkness and pain and.. shadows. Four years of talking to the shadows that surrounded me. Four years of waiting for somebody to come and save me, four years of waiting for that God that I spent my whole life learning about to come down and rescue me from Ari. Four years.

I've got nothing, nothing except what Ari didn't take. And God, he took just about everything left in me.

I swallow and try to control my emotions. I'm so tired right now. I don't want to hear any more of this, but I need to. I've missed out on four years of life.. Four years that I'll never get back. "How is everyone? Are they..." I trail off. I can't help it. I can't bring myself to finish that sentence, in any way. He'll know what I mean, or close to it.

"Everyone's fine." He pauses. I could speak, but I can tell by the look on his face that he has more that he wants to say. He just doesn't know how to word it. I should have known. He's walking on eggshells here, trying not to upset me. He doesn't need to, really, because I don't think anything he says is going to hurt me much more. I don't think anything anyone says is going to hurt me much more. "I, uh, I contacted NCIS a few days ago."

Did he talk to Gibbs? Tony? Abby? The Director? Who did he talk to, who did he tell that I'm alive? Why would he do that, without telling me first? I can't just go back to them. I want to, God knows I want to, but I know that it's not the best thing. I don't think it is. It would hurt them, wouldn't it? Being dead for four years and then just suddenly reappearing on their doorstep. It's not something that I want to have to go through, it's not something that I want to put them through.

He must have seen the fear in my eyes or on my face, or something, because he's quick to tell me more. "I told Agent David." He must see the confusion now, because he's quick to explain. "She, well, she took over your position after you... left." Left. As if I'd handed in a resignation letter and headed back to the Secret Service. "She's here now. I told her what had happened, and she said that she wanted to talk to you. I didn't want to tell Gibbs or the others yet, and.. She's good at keeping secrets." He looks at me. I bet he's afraid I'm going to start crying or something. _You want to, don't you?_ "I'll go get her, if you want..." He's uncomfortable, I can tell, and ready to pawn me off on the next willing human being. So I nod. _Getting used to being unwanted, are you?_

I thought I had left the shadows behind. I thought they had stayed behind as I moved forward, been stuck in that room as I ventured back into the world. I guess I thought wrong.

"Caitlin Todd?" I hear the voice and I automatically cringe. The accent is too much like his, too familiar to his, that I can't think of anything but him right now and my heart starts to pound in my ears. _Get over it. Listen to her. _I take a breath and I calm myself down. I look at her, and she looks back. "I'm Ziva David." I don't care who you are, really. (Not that I would ever tell her that.) "Do you want to tell me what happened?" Not really.

"Ari took me, faked my death. Fornell found me. Not much more than that." There's more than that. I know it, and I'm sure she knows it, too.

"Care to elaborate?" Yes. Yes, she does know it.

"Not really."

She nods, accepting that, at least for now. I push myself up in the hospital bed to a sitting position, and I'm glad that she doesn't start fussing over me. "You're aware that you've been gone for the past four years?"

"Even if I wasn't, I would be now."

She looks annoyed at my statement, but I can't say that I really care. I don't even care that she replaced me, really. I knew they would have to. I just... I didn't think that I'd ever have to _meet_ her. If they replaced me with her, then she's got to be better than me, right? I don't want to think about that. Not right now. _You can't ignore your thoughts forever._ I know that. Why do they think that I don't know that? Why can't they just leave me alone?

"I've informed the Director that you're still alive. I assume that the rest of the office will know before tomorrow afternoon."

Suddenly, I feel nauseous. I just want to throw up, I just want to go back to sleep and pretend like she hadn't just said that. Why? Why would they tell them that I'm still alive? Does she just like to hurt people? I've been gone for four years. They think I'm _dead._ I can't just show up on their doorstep!

And I tell her so.

She shrugs. "It wouldn't be fair to let them think that you are dead when you're right here."

But it's my life. It's my decision. Or at least it should be, shouldn't it? She has no right to take over my life. She has no right to tell them that. I should be the one to decide whether or not to tell them, not a stranger. I should have some control over my own life. I've had four years of no control. I think it's about time I get some.

They seem to think that I should be okay. They seem to think that me getting out of there fixes everything, that now everything's perfect in my life and I'm fine again. They don't seem to get it. This doesn't make anything better, it doesn't fix anything. If anything it makes it worse, and I just wish they could understand it. Because I'm not fine again. I'm no better than I was the day they found me, or the day before that, or the day before that, and I'm not going to be better tomorrow. I just wish they could understand that, and I wish they could understand without me having to tell them.

I open my mouth to speak but she just turns away and leaves. _Just like Ari._ I squeeze my eyes shut, blocking out the sounds of the shadows the best that I can. I don't want to deal with them. I don't want to deal with Agent David or Fornell. And I sure as hell don't want to deal with myself right now.

All I can do is hope for sleep.

~~~~.~~~~

His head is leaning over mine, so close I can feel his breath on my face, and I already know what's coming. His mouth lingers over my neck, his lips roughly pressing against my skin. His hand grips my shoulder, stopping my struggling, pinning me on the ground. "Don't be afraid," he whispers coldly into the darkness, sending shivers down my spine at just the sound of his voice. He adjusts his body over me, making sure he's got me where I can't even move. His hand runs down my arm, lightly, his nails gently scraping my skin. Down my side, digging deeper through my shirt, on my thigh now... He's reaching for the button, the zipper, and I see the sick, satisfied smile that curves on his lips, that gleam in his eyes...

I try to turn on my side, try to get away, but there's not quite enough room on the hospital bed and I end up waking up instead. Fornell and Ziva are sitting in the two chairs, talking to each other in hushed voices. They don't seem to realize I'm awake, so I shut my eyes -- blocking out the images of the nightmare I just had the best I can -- and try to hear what they're saying.

"Well, what do you think?" Fornell asks, his voice tired and slightly annoyed.

Ziva clears her throat quietly. I guess they're trying not to wake me up. "I don't know, really." I still hate that accent; it sends shivers through my spine. "They're shocked, but that's to be expected. As far as their actual emotions.. They won't tell me much at all."

Fornell sighs. "Can't you tell, at all? I mean, the way they speak, or something?"

"I told you. I don't know."

They fall silent for what feels like forever, so I decide it's time to 'wake up'. I force a yawn, stretching lightly and opening my eyes slowly. Fornell looks over at me, chewing his bottom lip, and Ziva glances in my direction before answering a text message. Or pretending to; I didn't hear her phone go off. "Morning," Fornell says, then he stands and walks over to my bed. Oh, boy. "We've talked to the doctors"--Ziva shoots him a quick glare, and I wonder if she's mad at him for bringing her into this--"and they said that you should be ready for dismissal in a few days." I don't say anything, so he continues. "Once you're out, we'll go from there. We'll get you cleaned up, get you some clothes, that sort of thing. Then we'll take you back to the NCIS office."

Of course. They want to take me back, because everybody knows now. I should have known. I shouldn't be as surprised as I am now. I knew it would happen eventually -- something in the back of my mind told me not to be naive, told me not to start thinking that this would all blow over. I just didn't expect it to happen so soon, and really, it's different when hearing it out loud. I force a nod, for Fornell's sake.

~~~~.~~~~

I don't want to go in. I really, really, really just don't want to go in.

I'm standing at the door. I've been standing here for the past twenty minutes. I remember walking in there every day for work, sometimes with Abby or Tony or McGee or sometimes even Gibbs or Ducky at my side. It was easy for me then. Why can't it be easy now?

Fornell's face is the epitome of frustration. He obviously doesn't like standing outside staring at doors for twenty minutes. Ziva went back to the car for my jacket. That's why we're still standing here. I said I was cold. It's seventy degrees. I'm not cold. I'm the farthest thing from it. I'm so nervous my heart won't stop beating and I can feel the sweat dripping. It's everywhere. I can't handle this. I can't do it. There's no way. They can't make me.

She returns all too fast. I'm still not ready. She walks up and stands at my other side, staring at the door just like I am. I want to just turn around and run, run away, before they know what's going on and before they can catch me. It wouldn't work, though. I'm too nervous. I wouldn't get very far, and I know it.

"You ready?" Ziva asks. The minutes are passing so slowly. It feels like I've been standing here for years. A few people have gone in since we've been standing here, those poor souls who got up too late or had to drive in from an unfamiliar house. They've stared at us like we were crazy -- or me, rather, because I'm sure they all know Agent David and Fornell. It's me they don't recognize. Or maybe they _do _recognize me, and that's why they've stared. I don't know.

"No," I say. She sighs. She must be as bored and frustrated as Fornell, but she knows how to keep it out of her face. She knows how to hide it.

She waits a few minutes, then tries again. I answer with another 'no', and again she turns her attention back to the door.

Fornell opens the door, and I'm confused. What's he doing? Is he going to go get them, bring them out here? I hope not. That doesn't make it any easier. Is he giving up? I don't know what to think about that. I don't know whether to be upset or relieved. But he's not moving. He's just standing there, holding the door open. I burrow my eyebrows in confusion. What's going on?

Then I feel my feet leave the ground and I understand. They're making me go in. Ziva carries me past the doorway. I don't bother struggling, because I know it won't do any good. It never does any good, not when you're as weak and helpless as I am. We're inside now and my heartbeat won't stop escalating, my body won't stop shaking, my arms won't stop sweating and I won't stop pulling the jacket tighter around me. I need something to feel safe, and I'm not getting it. I don't have a 'safety blanket' anymore. I don't have anything to make me feel better. I don't have anything to calm me down. I want that bottle of painkillers back, I want something to make the pounding on my temples go away. I can't handle this.

Ziva carries me into the elevator and doesn't put me down until the doors close. I stumble backwards until my back hits the wall and then I slide down, unable to keep myself standing. I bring my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them, burying my head into the small space between my knees. Fornell stops the elevator and I know how much of a child I must seem. But I can't help it. I just want to be somewhere else, anywhere else. Anywhere but here. Doing anything but this. I just want to be someone else, anyone else. Anyone who's better than this.

I feel a hand come down on my shoulder, and squeeze it gently. I can't imagine it being Ziva, so it has to be Fornell. Then again, he doesn't seem like too much of a comforting person, either. I swallow hard, wiping the tears that had started to form in my eyes on my sleeve. It's been forever since I've cried. I don't really want to start now. I take in a shaky breath, pulling myself together. "I'm sorry," I mutter, standing up and grabbing onto the rail. Fornell just nods, turning the elevator back on.

Well, I guess I've crossed the Rubicon now.

It seems like no time passes before the doors open. I don't want them to open. Ziva walks out, and Fornell puts a hand on my shoulder and gently squeezes, just like a few moments ago. I take in a deep breath, pulling my jacket around my tightly. Then I walk out, Fornell right beside me.

~~~~.~~~~

It's silent. I've been here three, maybe four hours now and still the silence is the only thing that surrounds us. They've all greeted me, they've all said hello, but everything seemed forced. They're confused. They're still shocked. I get it. But I've had four years of silence. I don't need anymore of it, I don't want it to keep haunting me. The silence gets us nowhere.

I never meant to fade away. I never meant to stay away for so long. I only meant to be gone for a short time, or until I really _did _die, and then it would be as if I never lied to begin with. Then it would be okay. I never meant to fade away, just to reappear after so long. After they'd grieved and moved on. It's not fair to them and I know it. It's not fair to me, either, and I think I'm the only one who knows that. _We know._

I mean, I worked _so hard_ to get where I had gotten. To get to the Secret Service, to get NCIS, to be successful. That took a lot of work and now, now it doesn't even matter. I may as well have never even tried; I would have ended up the same, just maybe a little less hurt and a little more happy.

I'm sitting on the floor, leaning against my old desk. _Ziva's desk. _She's out in the field, McGee's down in Abby's lab, Gibbs is goodness knows where and Tony is right in front of me, hitting the keys in front of him with unnecessary force. His eyebrows are together in a scowl and he's glaring at the computer like it just tried to kill him. It's a look I know all too well, even after all this time. He's mad.

_You're not supposed to be here._

I scoot up.

_You're supposed to be dead._

I run a hand through my hair.

_They already got over you._

Stop it. Please. I put my weight onto my hands and readjust my position.

_You're nothing to them but a thing of the past._

I know. Stop. My hands clench into fists.

_They don't want you here anymore._

Of course they don't. I squeeze my eyes closed.

_They've got Ziva now._

Yes, they do. Someone better than me. I lean my head upwards, until it hits the desk behind me.

_You coming back is ruining their lives._

"Shut up!"I yell. I don't mean to. I was just supposed to think it, not say it. I just want the shadows to stop talking. I don't want to listen to them. I just want them to go away.

_Make us._

I can't. I can't fight them and I can't win and I know it. I know it but I don't know what to do, I don't know how to get them to stop talking, I can't get them out of my head no matter how hard I try. They may let go a little bit but I know I can't make them let go completely, I can't do it, not by myself and not like this... They're too strong, they're in my head and they won't get out.

I can feel Tony looking at me. He's staring, trying to figure out what's going on. He's looking at me like I'm crazy and I don't blame him, I can't blame him. Because I am crazy. I have to be crazy, talking to the shadows on the walls and beneath the desks and beside the cabinets.

"I don't... I don't want to hear it anymore!" I feel the sting of tears against my eyes. I don't want them to fall. I don't want Tony to see me cry. I bring my knees up to my chest and bury my head, but I can't bring myself to move any more than that. I can't make myself get up and walk away. I want to, I want nothing more than to get away, but I can't.

_It's sad, really._

That's what he had said. Those were Ari's words.

_You can't do anything else, can you?_

No. No. That's what he had said to me when he brought up the deal. No. They were quoting him now. They were using his words.

I feel a hand on my back, I feel somebody trying to pull me up. I tear away from whoever it is, stumbling backwards blindly. I won't open my eyes. I can see now, I can see too well. I don't want to see his face. I don't want to see Ari. I don't want him to touch me. I don't want him anywhere near me.

_Don't be afraid, Caitlin._

That's what he always said to me... They words he used when I struggled...

I hear somebody walking towards me. It's him, I know it's him, because there's nobody else here. It's just me and him, like it has been for the past four years. I'm here and he's here and he can do whatever he wants to me, just like he always has, but this time I can try to get away. I don't have the chains. I can back up until he gets me into a corner and then, and then I get to know that even without the chains I'm still helpless. I'm still powerless. I'm still weak and I still can't do anything.

Then the footsteps stop. I hear a voice, calling out to me, saying my name -- saying Kate -- but I can't really hear them. The shadows are drowning them out, Ari's voice is taking over my mind. I hit the wall and I fall to the ground. This is it. This is all there is.

All I do is lose.

I feel two hands on both of my arms, gently pulling me up. I slowly open my eyes, and through the tears all I see is the office. What's.. what's going on? Where is he? I turn to both of my sides and he's not there, just Fornell and Gibbs and Tony and McGee and Ziva and Abby. I don't know when any of them came, I don't know when they got here. I remember Tony being here, but that was before Ari got here. No. It couldn't have been. What..?

"Kate." I turn to Gibbs. "What's wrong?"

"Ari--" I start, but then I stop. They're all looking at me, waiting. "He was here, wasn't he? He was... he was saying all these things, chasing me..."

They just look at me sadly. Ziva almost looks guilty. Fornell looks as though he knows exactly what's going on and Gibbs looks mad as hell. Tony looks as though he's about to cry and McGee looks like he wants nothing more than to hug me. Abby's got her back turned and I know, I know without seeing that there are tears running down her face and she's scared, I know that she's scared as hell for me (or is it because of me?). I know and it breaks my heart, it hurts so bad to see all of their faces, my family, standing here, looking at me like I'm insane, like I'm a China plate that just shattered all over the floor. It hurts to see how scared and how hurt they are because of me. I hate it, and the tears run down my face even as I struggle to keep them in.

"He was here, wasn't he?" I repeat, my voice shaking and my head spinning as the throbbing against my temples gets harder and harder. Eventually Ziva shakes her head.

"But.. I heard him. It.. It was him. The shadows. They were always him, talking to me, telling me.." I swallow. I knew it. I knew I was going to go crazy and now here I am. Crazy. Insane. Imagining people who aren't even here, hearing things that aren't even real.

"Kate..." I know he doesn't know what to say. Gibbs always knows what to say, but no, I've made him speechless. If it had been some day four years ago, I probably would have been proud of that fact. But now all I want to do is cry. "Ari's dead," he says, obviously not satisfied with the words he had to choose. "He's dead."

I stumble towards Tony, just wanting somebody, anybody to hold me; I pretty much fall onto him, the tears streaming down my face before I've even reached him. And he holds me, whispering "It's okay" and "I'm right here" and "I won't let anything happen to you again" in my ear. He holds me like there's no tomorrow. Because who knows. Maybe there isn't.

Maybe I'll never be able to escape the shadows.


End file.
